


the risks we take, betting for the long game

by OceanMyth



Series: Ocean's ATLA Drabbles, Oneshots, and Ficlets [16]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (too often if you ask Katara), Aang (Avatar) Is A Good Parent, Aang hates sea-prunes, F/M, Family Fluff, There's a little fluff and a little angst, katara gets to be a grandmother, katara loves sea-prunes, sokka comes over for dinner, the ending is like semi-sweet chocolate, thus the bet was born
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27568549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanMyth/pseuds/OceanMyth
Summary: Aang and Katara have a running bet about whether their kids and grandkids will like sea-prunes or not. (Little do they know that they are running out of time)
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Bumi II & Katara, Katara & Kya II (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Katara & Tenzin (Avatar)
Series: Ocean's ATLA Drabbles, Oneshots, and Ficlets [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113209
Comments: 22
Kudos: 93





	the risks we take, betting for the long game

She and Aang make _the bet_ after Bumi tries sea-prunes for the first time. 

Dinner had been peaceful that night. Sokka had sent Katara a shipment of the first sea-prunes harvested that year, and she’d been looking forward to having them with her family. Aang had made a horrendous face when she’d told him they’d be having sea-prunes, but then he’d kissed her on the forehead and smiled at her fondly as she’d talked about making Gran-Gran’s recipe for the first time in her own home. 

Aang had managed to come home early, a rare event as of late, so she’d had his help in the kitchen. Katara had been even more excited to share the food of her homeland with her son than she had been to make it, and she hadn’t been able to hide her smile as she slid the bowl in front of him. It had felt like something right out of her childhood dreams about what it would be like when the war was over. Getting to spend her life with the man of her dreams, with a well-behaved child. Admittedly, that part had only started to feature in her dreams _after_ Bumi was born—but Bumi had been well behaved that day (by his standards at least). 

Well behaved until that first spoonful of freshly stewed sea-prunes passed his lips.

Then Bumi screwed up his face and spit it across the room, and the silence is broken by her son’s crying. Aang looks shocked at first, but then starts laughing as he goes to clean up the mess. Katara is much less amused than her husband and tries to coax Bumi to finish his bowl, only for the four-year-old to throw it at the wall, narrowly missing Aang’s head. Bumi’s eyes are getting red and his nose is getting runny, and it looks like a temper-tantrum is on the way. 

Katara exchanges a _look_ with Aang, and they wordlessly come to the agreement that it’s best if they don’t try to make Bumi finish his sea-prunes. 

Katara doesn’t finish her own sea-prunes either. She spends the rest of dinner angrily pushing her food around in her bowl, while Aang looks at her in concern, having finished his food with the startling efficiency of fathers everywhere.

She’s fine. 

Really.

_The bet_ is made later that night— they are lying in bed, and Katara is wrapped safe in Aang's arms. Bumi has been cleaned up and put to bed, but she’s not counting on him staying there for long. He will inevitably tip-toe into their room in about an hour, and ask to sleep with them for the night. So she enjoys this quiet time with Aang while she has it. 

His breath tickles the hair on the back of her neck.

She rolls over, and meets his eyes, dark in the moonlight that streams through the window, through the gossamer curtains that don’t do much to block the light. Mostly because if the moon is full neither of them will be doing much sleeping, regardless of how dark the curtains leave the room. 

Aang prefers to let the night air in while they sleep, and the curtains billow in the soft breeze that comes in through the window. He’s rubbing her shoulder, thumb pressing lightly against her skin, eyebrows furrowed, searching her face for _something_ , though she doesn’t know what.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. Katara reaches up to touch his jawline, where the beard he’s entirely too excited for is coming in. Right now it’s just very prickly. When he speaks the puffs of breath tickle her fingertips.

“Nothing much. What happened at dinner, I guess,” he says. She scowls, and pulls her hand back from his face and jabs her finger against his chest instead.

“I blame _you_ for that mister. I’m not sure how you managed it, but you corrupted Bumi.” Her hand isn’t poking him anymore, having somehow become splayed over his beating heart. She both hears his laughter at her response, and feels it under her hand on his chest.

“ _I_ corrupted Bumi?” He nearly starts laughing again, before composing himself. “Sweetie, I’m afraid that he just takes after me. No corruption necessary.” Aang reaches out to tuck her loose hair behind her ear. His hand lingers on the side of her face just a little longer than necessary, and Katara is suddenly overwhelmed with just how much she loves the man in front of her.

She leans forward and kisses him.

It’s soft and sweet and doesn’t last more than a moment, but it doesn’t need to. When Katara pulls away, Aang’s eyes are shining and he has that awed smile, like he can’t quite believe that she’s here with him, like she’s his _everything_ , and she can’t resist kissing him again.

She also can’t resist teasing him when she finally pulls away. 

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to make sure the next one takes after _me_ then,” she says playfully, before realizing what she said and blushing hot in the darkness. Aang mouths the words to himself after she says them incredulously, and before she knows it she’s being kissed again.

“Is that a bet, Master Katara?” he asks, voice low and eyes intent on hers.

“Yes,” she breaths, and he leans in for another kiss— but then Aang stops, groans, and pulls the sheets over his head. Katara blinks, confused as to why he stopped— then she hears it and groans herself. The pitter patter of little footsteps echoes down the hallway outside, and soon Bumi is tapping his small fist against their bedroom door. It seems they’ve run out of time for tonight.

* * *

Bumi is seven by the time Kya is born.

He’s only been sleeping through the night in his own room for about two years, the first of which Katara and Aang had spent terrified that he’d wake up in the middle of the night, and come and ask to sleep with them.

Kya’s early years are wonderful, especially compared with how chaotic Bumi’s had been. She’s a sweet baby, very quiet and curious, and Aang adores her. Mainly because unlike Bumi, Kya lets Aang hold her for hours without complaining or squirming. Bumi had been a curious baby, and if he wasn’t being held where he could see the world around him, he would complain. 

Loudly. 

Kya likes to snuggle, and for that she has her father wrapped around her tiny fingers. Most of her aunts and uncles as well— Toph swears that “the baby is up to something,” and “refuses to be taken in by her scam”— but little Kya is the delight of the rest of their extended family. When the time comes to move her into her own bedroom, she goes without any fuss at all.

Tenzin is born two years after Kya.

Things have finally begun to settle down in Republic City, and Aang spends more of his time at home with his family. There is still the odd trip here and there, but they are often shorter and more easily dealt with, and Katara no longer spends weeks hoping that her husband will come home to her.

The day Kya tries sea-prunes for the first time, a day that comes about a week after her fourth birthday, is a day that will be celebrated. 

Though not for the reasons Katara had been hoping.

Sokka is over for dinner, both because he’s a leech who doesn’t like to cook,and Suki is out of town and he doesn’t want to spend dinner alone. She’d made sea-prunes, and Sokka had taken it upon himself to introduce them to his niece. 

Something that Aang had tried to dissuade him from— and Katara had agreed. Kya had been turning out to be a much more picky eater than Bumi. The only things she would eat were sweets, and three very specific soups, two of which had to be made by Aang, and Aang only— Kya seemed to be able to tell if Katara had helped in any way. The third soup was the opposite— Aang couldn’t even be in the room while it was cooking, or she would refuse to eat it. Sea-prunes were none of those foods. There’s no way this won’t end with a tantrum.

Sokka insists. 

Aang shakes his head and scoops Tenzin up, carrying him off to bed.

Kya starts wailing before the spoon even reaches her mouth. It’s probably the smell. Sokka lowers the spoon in surprise, and Katara just watches, vindicated.

Kya shoves away the bowl with a final howl of “No!” which is screeched as loudly as her little lungs can manage. The rest of the bowls on the table move with her, and several of the glasses and cups tip over. Sokka shoots her an alarmed look as Kya looks down at her hands in wonder. Then with an expression of pure maniacal _glee_ , one that Katara's sure she’s seen on her husband's face at least once, Kya shoves her hands forward again, and all the bowls go shooting off the table, splattering against the wall, and dripping across the table.

She and Sokka dive beneath the table to avoid being covered in sea-prunes, broth, and tea. Bumi slips backwards off his chair with a surprised thump. He doesn’t seem hurt, but Katara twitches towards him anyway, wanting to make sure.

Sokka stops her with a hand on her arm, and shakes his head. Above them, Kya sends a few of the remaining cups flying toward the wall.

  
“You know, I was kinda over this by the time you turned three,” Sokka quips. Katara resists the urge to smack him.

“Not _helping_ ,” she hisses instead, and then Aang comes back into the room.

He stops in the doorframe, and his mouth drops open in surprise. Katara watches as he begins bending the mess out the open window—since there’s not a better place to dispose of the watery mess—separating the little fragments of the shattered bowls out to throw away as he goes. She shoves Sokka out from under the table, intending to follow after him and check on Bumi. 

She hadn’t thought that Sokka would fall right into Aang’s legs. Aang stumbles a little, but manages to recover his balance— but not his concentration. Katara watches in horror as Aang loses his grip on the liquid— though not the floating shards of pottery, thank the spirits for his priorities— and it all comes splashing down on her brother, soaking him. Sokka’s indignant howl makes her laugh though, and Bumi cackles from his spot on the floor.

Kya giggles, and the slop on the floor sluggishly twitches.

Aang sets the shards of pottery down on the table, and helps Sokka to his feet, pulling the nastiness out of his clothes, and getting it all the way out of the window this time. Katara manages to get out from under the table, and bends down to check on Bumi. He’s fine— he’ll probably have a bruise tomorrow, but nothing serious—and she breathes a sigh of relief, and helps Aang bend the last of the mess out the window.

Cleaning up the mess takes longer than she’d expected, and Sokka winds up taking Kya up to bed while she and Aang finish cleaning everything up. Bumi hangs around, stubbornly trying to help, until she takes him to bed. Some of the bowls and plates had shattered into very small pieces, and neither Katara or Aang were willing to risk him getting hurt.

She’s exhausted by the time she and Aang close their bedroom door behind them. The kids are in bed, hopefully asleep, and Sokka left… she's not sure how long ago. The time that had passed since they managed to get Bumi to go to bed is shimmering and dancing through her mind like the desert heat waves.

Katara stumbles over to the bed and flops down. She’s still in her clothes, but at this point she isn’t sure that she wants to take the time to change.

“Hey,” Aang’s hand is warm on her shin. She lifts her head, and blinks at him tiredly. He seems worried, but she’s not sure what he’s worried about. Katara rolls onto her back and holds out her hands to him. He jumps up onto the bed, folding his legs underneath him, but he seems more interested in unlacing her boots and pulling them off than in getting a hug. 

That’s fine with her. She’s too tired to make the effort anyway. 

Once he has her boots off, he stretches out on the bed, propped up on one elbow to look into her eyes. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and Katara blinks again. She’s not really sure what he’s asking— and she’s tired enough that it takes her a second to find the words to respond.

“I— yes? Why are you asking?” she asks. Aang traces his thumb along the side of her face, thinking over his response. She can see him trying to figure out what to say, the way he forms and discards little half-sentences, in the twitch and then furrowing of his eyebrows. His nose wrinkles up just a little bit, and she can’t resist kissing the tip of it. His face goes slack, and she’s pretty sure he just forgot what he was going to say.

Aang blinks, regathers himself, and then tries again. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay with how dinner went. I know that you had wagered on Kya liking sea-prunes, and I know you put so much time and effort into-” Katara gently presses a finger in front of his mouth.

“Aang. We both know that Kya is incredibly picky— though I don’t know where she gets it from,” Aang looks guilty for a second, and she bites the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. “I wasn’t really expecting her to enjoy them. Maybe when she’s older, but not right now. Tonight was a gift though. She’s a _waterbender,_ Aang. I can’t wait to teach her everything I know,” she says. As she drifts off, the last thing she can see is Aang’s strained smile. It’s not right, not real, and so she reaches up and pats his cheek.

“Don’t look all victorious. I can still win the bet.”

Katara falls asleep, content in the knowledge that the last smile she’d seen from Aang had been genuine.

* * *

And suddenly _the bet_ becomes a part of their lives. It slips into their late-night conversations, as they get ready for bed, and the jokes about what each of them get if they win become more and more elaborate.

Before she knows it, Tenzin is turning four, and she and Aang plan the sea-prune dinner with what could be considered _too much_ glee. Sokka pulls her aside one night and tells her, quite seriously, that he believes that Aang has been replaced by an impostor, because he’s never been this excited about sea-prunes before. Katara had laughed him off, and told him it was fine. Sokka had looked her in the eye, before his eyes wided, scrunching up his nose, claiming that he “Didn’t want to know, ‘cause _oogies_ ,” and leaving at a speed that only big brothers who assume something they didn’t want to know about their sibling will ever be able to attain.

As the date comes closer Katara keeps seeing Bumi whispering to Kya out of the corner of her eye, which is concerning, but she doesn’t have enough evidence that they’re planning something to confront them. It becomes a nagging worry in the back of her mind, even as she arranges to pick up the sea-prunes at the market, and goes through the motions of making the dish.

When Katara sees Tenzin scoop up a spoonful of sea-prunes and gingerly put it into his mouth, she holds her breath.

Nothing happens.

He swallows.

There is no screaming, no tantrum, and no bowl clattering against the wall. He even goes back for a second spoonful, and she whirls, victoriously to Aang. The concerned look on his face makes her pause however, and when she turns back to Tenzin, she finds him crying. Tears leak from his eyes with every spoonful. Abruptly he stops.

“Why are you punishing me, Mommy?” he asks, and his lower lip trembles. 

_Oh_. 

Oh _no_. 

Katara takes the bowl back from him, and as she’s hugging him close to reassure him that she wasn’t trying to punish him, not at all, she sees Aang grin at her. She narrows her eyes at him from over the top of Tenzin’s prickly head. They’ll talk about the bet later. Right now she has to console their distraught son, and then talk to Kya and Bumi about telling Tenzin lies.

She _knows_ what happened here— but isn’t it funny that her first thought isn’t disappointment that Tenzin won’t share her love of sea-prunes, but instead frustration that Kya and Bumi have messed up _the bet_? Maybe it’s because Bumi has already started begging Sokka to take him out sailing, and Kya had managed her first water-whip the day before. And maybe it’s because all of her children have been picky eaters so far, so perhaps she’d already been expecting Tenzin’s rejection of the sea-prunes.

That doesn’t mean that Bumi and Kya will be getting away with telling their brother the sea-prunes were a punishment though.

She and Aang aren’t quite in bed that night when Aang brings up _the bet_ , but Katara isn’t upset. It wasn’t a _rule_ that they needed to wait to talk about it until the room was dark and the moon was high overhead. Just a habit. She’s brushing out her hair, having unbraided it for bed, when Aang comes up behind her and tucks his chin into the crook of her neck. 

His silence is entirely too smug. Katara narrows her eyes, before grinning and leaning back and to kiss his cheek. 

“That’s for winning the first round,” she says, and Aang laughs.

“Why—thank you,” he says, and presses a kiss behind her ear. “Such extravagant winnings.” His whisper sends a shiver down her spine, and Katara pulls him around to face her fully, before kissing him as deeply as she can while still holding a hairbrush in her hand.

“I’m confused though… what do you mean, _first round?_ I think I’ve won the bet. Fair and square.” Aang whispers the words against her lips, and she pulls away enough to look into his eyes

“Just you wait and see, mister,” she says, and laughs quietly. They are still close enough that her nose bumps against his when she speaks. 

“There are still grandchildren to be considered.” 

* * *

After moving back to the South Pole, Katara spends most of her time alone.

Kya visits more often than either of her brothers, as often as she can, but she’s not there all the time. Her daughter’s heart has always been in the wind, and Katara cannot ask her to spend her life tied down. This isn’t to say that Katara spends her time waiting for Kya to come home— she has a life, has her pupils, has her work with the other healers of the tribe. She does her best to make the world better, like she’s always done. Katara is the same _person_ , just slower and older, and taking more time for herself. 

But sometimes she’s just so _lonely_. She had always expected to spend her twilight years in much of the same fashion as her own grandmother had, surrounded by the rosy glow of her family, holding close the people dearest to her. 

She must not have been holding tight enough.

Tenzin doesn’t visit often. She understands, of course, he has his own life, and visiting the South Pole can be hard on the children— whether it’s during the eternal night of the summer, or the endless day of the winter. When Tenzin does come to visit he brings his kids with him, and her house fills with laughter. Jinora is quiet, and prefers to ask Katara to tell her stories than the wild adventures— and trouble—that Ikki always gets into.

Katara will never quite forget the sight of Ikki, only three years old, being deposited on her doorstep by a fully-grown polar bear dog. The dog, with her pups frolicking around her feet and holding Ikki by the scruff of her tiny red shawl, staring right into Tenzin’s eyes as she gently dropped Ikki, while all the color drained from Tenzin’s face. Katara had been standing next to Pema, trying to figure out whether she should interfere, before the dog just turned around and loped away.

Ikki is four years old this visit, Jinora is seven, and Katara thinks that it’s finally time. So when Tenzin and Pema usher the girls into the dining area, and they all sit down to eat dinner, there is a bowl of sea-prunes sitting innocuously in the middle. 

Tenzin stiffens up like a board when he smells them, and his head swivels towards Katara, almost of its own accord. His eyes are wide, but he doesn’t say anything. Ikki’s eyes bounce between her father studiously ignoring the steaming bowl in the middle of the table, and Katara. Jinora also looks curious, but she’s content to eat the food that has been served to her, and read the books that she’s tucked under the table.

Ikki pokes Katara’s arm.

“Gran-gran? What are those?” she asks, and she’s leaning against Katara’s arm and looking up at her with grey eyes, Aang’s eyes, and Katara already melted for this little girl the day she was born. It will be a dark day when Ikki discovers just how much power she has over her Gran-gran.

“Those are sea-prunes, Ikki,” Katara answers, and Ikki hums. Then pokes her sister. Hard, if the way Jinora jolts is any indication.  
  
“Psst— Jinora— I dare you to try the stuff in the middle of the table that Dad won’t touch.” Ikki pokes her sister with every other word, and Jinora growls.

“Fine! But then you have to leave me _alone_.” Jinora grabs the bowl from the middle of the table, and plops a steaming spoonful of sea-prunes into her bowl. As the bowl crosses the table, Tenzin unconsciously leans away from it.

Jinora scoops some up, and Katara finds herself holding her breath as it disappears into her granddaughter’s mouth. Jinora squints her eyes, and her eyebrows furrow in much the same way as Aang’s would, when he was trying to make a decision.

Her eyes widen, and Katara can hear Ikki gasp.

And Katara can hardly believe her eyes when Jinora inhales the rest of the sea-prunes on her plate, and goes back for more. Ikki shrugs, and tugs on Katara’s sleeve again.

“Gran-gran, I want a spoonful too! Before Jinora eats it all!” she pleads, and Katara laughs and helps Ikki get a spoonful of sea-prunes. 

The look on Tenzin’s face makes Katara wish she had one of those _cameras_.

* * *

It’s late that evening, before Katara can slip out her own front door. After the kids are in bed, it’s finally time for her to catch up with Tenzin, and hear about the latest corruption in Republic City. This time it’s a scandal about the head of an elite private school embezzling money from a charity he’d set up to help pay the tuition for orphans.

The front door doesn’t creak when Katara closes it, she keeps it too well oiled for that. She knows the way to the ocean like her own heartbeat, and she reaches her canoe quickly, gets in carefully, and unties it from its mooring. She leaves it in the water, when she knows she’ll be going out that night. Less chance of creating a splash that will wake someone up.

Katara paddles out into the darkness of the ice-fields, canoe slipping through narrow cracks in flat sheets, past tall glaciers, and on towards her destination. Though the ice may shift and change, she’ll always be able to find her way.

She’s there before she knows it. Her canoe bumps against the strange blue ice. Before she disembarks, she freezes the canoe into place, in order to prevent it from drifting off on her. She’d hate to go home in an ice-canoe again. It has happened before, when she’s been too tired to remember to freeze the canoe into place, or let her emotions get the best of her on the ride over.

Katara eases herself down to sit on the ice, back to the swirling patterns in the iceberg. She leans back with a sigh, resting against the ice that had held him for so long.

“How is Korra?” she asks the empty air.

There is no answer, but Katara can almost hear a reply—Aang’s warm chuckle, the way his breath would fog up the clear night air, his gentle explanation of how Tonraq and Senna are dealing with little Korra, how she’s more of a handful than even Bumi. She never _actually_ hears anything on these nights, but she’s getting older, and her mind plays tricks on her more and more often, and she’ll allow it to fool her for tonight. 

“That’s nice,” Katara says absently. “You know, she reminds me a lot of you Aang. Not all the time, and not completely, but there are times where she just—” Katara’s voice breaks, and she falters.

“Tenzin is up for a visit,” she says instead, changing topics. The air is still and heavy, almost disapproving— then it lightens up, and she can breathe again, like when someone sighs and agrees to move on.

“He looks so _tired_ these days. It breaks my heart, but I— I’m needed here, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do for him… _He_ doesn’t think there’s anything I can do for him. He’s determined to take on the weight of the world, and he believes he has to do it alone, and I’ve offered my help but he’s so… _hurt_ by the idea that I can’t do it again, even though he needs it.” Katara takes a deep breath, and tries to steady her shaking hands. 

These visits aren’t supposed to be so heavy, she tries to come with only the best news— it’s why she rarely comes unless one of the kids has been by for a visit— but it never lasts that way for long. The air wants to be cleared, she can feel it. It swirls, inviting her to spill her worries and fears like a breaking dam, like a calving glacier, like the ice that had finally given way all those years ago.

Katara’s hands stop shaking.

“That’s a fantastic idea. If Tenzin is this stubborn with me while away from work, I can only imagine what it must be like to try to support him while he’s in Republic City. Reaching out to Pema would probably be the best way to help, without hurting Tenzin.” She takes a deep breath, and looks at the stars.

“The girls are getting so big. Jinora— she takes after you, Aang. And Ikki is getting into more and more trouble every year. She hasn’t gone on any _adventures_ yet, this visit, but I think it’s only a matter of time.” Addressing him by name had taken much more effort than she thought. The wind feels a little warmer than normal, as it tugs at her hair.

“I think I’ll take them penguin-sledding tomorrow.”

Katara laughs, and the wind carries a twisted echo of her laughter, one that sounds more delighted and excited than anything that her tired body could produce, and then she remembers what else had happened earlier that day, and her laughter stutters and dies in her throat. The echo slowly dies with it.

“The bet is finally over, Aang. At least, this part of it. The girls tried sea-prunes this afternoon— of their own accord even! They loved them too— I was right, when I told you to wait and see about the grandkids. You should have seen the look on Tenzin’s face, when they asked him if they could have sea-prunes at home. Ikki seemed pretty set on it too.” The wind howls like laughter, and she smiles.

“I don’t think he’ll manage to go home without a crate or two.” The smile slips off her face again. This time when she speaks, she’s not addressing the specter of Aang that haunts her side, but to herself.

“I’m not sure winning the bet was worth it. Why did I bother to make sea-prunes at all? What was the point? There is no prize, not anymore. I waited too long.” By the end, she’s addressing Aang again, and she would be crying, but her bitterness has frozen her tears in their ducts. 

“The only thing I would want is you. And that’s the thing I can’t have.” The wind howls against the ice, and Katara gasps.

Warmth, like sunshine breaking through clouds after a winter storm, like the first warm spring breeze of the year, like a gentle touch that she’d never thought she’d feel again, brushes against her cheek. Katara’s eyes go wide. She reaches withered fingers up, trying to hold the already-fading warmth there for a moment longer.

“ _Oh,_ ” she whispers, and there is silence where she’d normally expect laughter. She realizes there is a tear falling down her cheek, tracing its way down the lines of her face. A brush of warmth follows it futility, and Katara smiles through the blur in her vision. Tiny pricks of warmth land on her jaw, and she tilts her head up. 

One last burst of warmth against her lips— 

Katara is alone again before the sun rises, but she will swear till her last breath that her prize for betting for the long game was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest oneshot I've written yet. And I've been struggling with it since October, since the only thing that wanted to get written was the ending. Lemme know how the ending made you feel! You can yell at me here, or @justoceanmyth on tumblr.


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